A Dark Path
by silversurf4
Summary: In retrospect, he really should have known something bad would happen...his horoscope said it would be bad. Crews/Reese maybe... COMPLETED 19 July 2012
1. Chapter 1

**A Dark Path…**

_Prologue_

In retrospect, he really should have known something bad would happen.

Over a bowl of cereal that morning, Ted read his horoscope to him and it foretold, "a dark path lies ahead." But after the life he'd had, Charlie didn't put much stock in those things and imagined it meant something ominous like forgetting to bring an umbrella on a day that it rain.

Never in a million years would he have guessed it meant would this….

* * *

_Chapter One_

He came bouncing in from the bright morning LA sunshine to find a dour pouty Dani Reese sitting behind her desk staring into the space where he usually sat. She couldn't be staring at him because he wasn't there – not yet. He tried not to think too hard about that because he'd get stuck in his own internal quandary over whether he could be there and not be there simultaneously and quickly reviewed the night before in his head.

He tried to imagine what he'd done to engender her ire – because if he knew Reese – and he did – she was pissed. He faltered only a moment, settling down internally before approaching quietly, pulling out his chair and sitting down opposite her.

"Hey Reese," he said neutrally, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly disconnecting and busying herself with work.

He did not reply and did not leave. He simply sat absolutely and utterly still and waited for her eyes to return to him. Then raised a brow in silent query and was answered with her patented eye-roll and a heavy sigh. She refused to tell him forcing him into an alternate tactic – one he employed often – talking, in circles, which he knew annoyed her to no end.

His sigh preceded his commentary. It was infused with the aura of I thought we were past this, "I think we've established that when you say nothing, you mean something – something that you want to tell me, but you make me drag out of you," he paused. "Now… what do you say we skip all that and you just tell me what's wrong?"

He knew her inside out, upside down and backwards. They'd been partners for over three years and she could no longer hide from him. They were past that now. In point of truth they'd been past that for a while.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and then after a long moment, answered him – truthfully. "Tidwell and I broke up," her tone was low and meant for his ears only although it was fairly common knowledge she'd been dating their Captain for nearly a year. Only Reese and Tidwell pretended anymore that their trysts were secret.

"And this upset you?" he asked cautiously.

"No," she stated more patiently than he knew her to be, "I'm fine, but he's not."

"Oh," was all Charlie could summon. He sat up in his seat and craned his neck to look over his computer monitor into the office of their Captain who was chewing out some poor detective with his door closed.

"Don't look," she hissed at her partner.

Tidwell's door swung open and Detective Jamie Escobedo bolted out of the office looking scared. Tidwell walked out behind him, cast a dark look at Reese and then barked "Crews – my office – now."

Dani pivoted in her chair and glared at the Captain. She rose and stalked toward the man and the tension in the room was palpable. "Don't involve him in this," she demanded through clenched teeth.

"Me - Captain," Tidwell pointed at himself, "you – Sergeant," he announced in a direct challenge. "Crews," he flicked his gaze from Reese to her partner, "now."

Charlie was trapped between an angry boss and an angrier partner, but he obeyed the Captain. Reese returned to her desk, grabbed her jacket and stalked off to find a coffee stand lest a riot erupt. She knew Crews could handle himself and wouldn't do anything stupid (or at least she hoped he wouldn't), but she cast a look back to assure herself and found Crews stopped in the Captain's door watching her.

He smiled – her smile – the one he showed to no one else. It conveyed trust, comfort and concern, but above all control. Her lips twisted in a wry grin, she made a "C" with her hands and gestured to her lips like she was drinking. He nodded indicating his understanding that she'd be getting coffee before stepping into the Captain's office and closing the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"What's going on with you partner?" Tidwell opened testily.

"She's getting coffee," Charlie deliberately played dumb.

"She's getting coffee," Tidwell parroted in a sing-songy voice, "Okay wise ass, I know that. That's not what I mean."

"Maybe you should say what you mean," the con in Charlie menaced.

He still hadn't taken a seat and his height was an advantage he seldom used, but in this instance looking down at the other man set an unmistakable tone. His posture screamed, "_you may be my boss, but you're not in charge."_

Tidwell got the message because his next comment was far more respectful and his tone more level. "I know she told you we broke up."

Charlie said nothing to confirm or deny this. Tidwell was his boss, but Dani was his partner. His allegiance was to her.

"She tell you why we broke up?" Tidwell probed.

"Most couples break up over money or someone cheating," Charlie volunteered cheerfully. "Which one was it with you?"

Tidwell's face flushed and Crews watched him try to control his anger. "You need to choose your words carefully Detective," Tidwell glowered.

"After awhile words just aren't enough," Crews continued breezily, "they fail us. There are never enough of them, they aren't the right words and in the end they are just idle sounds if no meaning stands behind them."

"You…" Tidwell shook his head.

"I… what? Piss you off? Perplex you?"

Tidwell however had never moved beyond the reason he ordered Crews into his office to begin with – why – in his opinion, the little dark haired woman left him – Crews. "She loves you," Tidwell shouted in hoarse whisper.

This shocked Charlie, but he was careful not to show it. He said nothing, did nothing, but inside his mind and heart raced. His thoughts ran back to that orange grove six months prior and the look she gave him through a sheet of glass. The look that was one part wonder, one part concern and one part adoration. He'd run as far and as fast from that look as he could and not leave the country. He'd let her go because that was best for her – and yet….

"Did you hear what I said, you stupid bastard?" Tidwell leaned across his desk. His knuckles went white from the pressure. "She loves you," there was defeat in his voice.

Again Charlie said nothing, but he was thinking lots of things, some naughty, some nice, some past, some present, some future.

"Say something," Tidwell demanded.

"Like what?" Charlie wondered.

"Tell me what you think," Tidwell demanded.

"I think I'd like to be somewhere else," Charlie puzzled the man with his words, "but I can't be somewhere else because I am here."

Tidwell sighed in fury and ran his hands through his hair. "Get out," he pointed.

Charlie obeyed meekly and then pushed in his chair at his desk and then set off to find his partner who had yet to profess these imagined feelings to him. He had to consider that when someone leaves a partner, the partner often feels it is for another - even if sometimes it is not.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

She was sitting on a park bench, which was painted forest green. She was chipping the thick paint off with her thumbnail. She wore the sunglasses he bought her two Christmases ago, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. On the bench beside her sat an apple and a banana. She knew he'd come and she'd waited for him with fruit. She knew him too well he realized. They'd become accustomed to one another the way a couple did.

He knew how she liked her coffee and on many occasions he'd summon one up for her when she most needed it. Perfectly blended with just enough sugar and cream, just the way he knew she liked. It was a small thing that said - he paid attention, that he cared – without him ever actually having to admit it. He sat down beside her and exhaled a "hey" in greeting as he picked up the banana, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and began peeling it. He didn't say thanks, it wasn't an unusual gesture; it was common, it was them together.

She did speak, she didn't inquire, she didn't ask. He didn't unload, volunteer or offer anything. They didn't do that kind of thing. For all the revealing that had happened in the past three plus years, they weren't there yet. They sat in companionable silence eating and drinking and people watching. Reese wasn't a "talker" that much was established early on. She could sit all day and never tell him a thing. He wasn't about to interrogate her.

"You know…" he began after about a half an hour, but the shrill ring of her phone interrupted his witty Zen comment. She looked like she might be relieved for just a moment before she saw the caller ID and stated "Tidwell" before answering tersely, "Detective Reese." He noticed the tenseness in her jaw and shoulders, which signaled the stress she refused to show anyone.

"Got it, " she announced and snapped the phone shut. "We got a call," she said rising from the bench, "if we're not too busy," she repeated her ex's snide comment and glanced up at the glass building from which Tidwell was no doubt observing them.

"We're not. Are we?" he smiled softly at her throwing his banana peel in a nearby trash bin, "too busy?"

She grinned in response, "No."

He couldn't help the fact that he turned and waved at where he imagined Tidwell to be. He really didn't want to gloat but some days he couldn't help but be a bit cheeky. It was sunny, he was free and it seemed that now Dani Reese was too – and according to the man upstairs – she loved him.

In the car, he turned to face her, "Did you wanna…."

"Talk?" she finished for him.

His eyes were soft and concerned as he nodded dutifully.

"No," she replied firmly.

"That's what I thought," he said quietly and didn't pursue it further. "Where to?"

"Century City," she answered. "Double homicide," she supplied the fact pattern, "a man and a woman, mid thirties, both shot in a motel."

"The same motel room?"

"Yep," she spoke but was miles away as she stared through the windshield at the red light currently holding them back.

"It's usually money or cheating," he noted.

"Usually, but not always," she offered.

Her comment wasn't about the unnamed couple lying on the natty carpet in a cheap motel; it was about her and Tidwell. Reese didn't share much and when she did it was hidden in plain sight, but he spoke Reese now and he understood what she was telling this wasn't about him, Tidwell just thought it was because the other options was Reese left him for no reason at all, which had to cut hard and deep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

They worked the scene, which was as straightforward as they come. Both the bleach bottle blonde woman and her tattooed mate were naked when they were shot dead in their adulterous bed in a seedy motel. The most likely suspect was undoubtedly a spurned spouse, more likely her's than his – although both were married to another. Guns were much more a man's tool, they agreed as they waited for an address for Mr. Bottle Blonde.

"Why don't they just leave?" Charlie mused.

"They're dead," Reese replied annoyed and missing his point.

"Not here," he explained. "Why don't they just leave their spouse?"

"Oh," Reese's reply was subdued. Still a little close to home he reasoned.

"I guess it's easier to just keep lying," he continued down his line of thought. It was related to the case and it wasn't. She glared at him and he instantly knew that she was aware of what he was doing. "It's harder, but braver and somehow kinder - to leave," he plowed ahead despite the danger.

"Is that so?" she was pissed now – this time he was sure it was at him.

He chewed on his thoughts for a moment while he decided how hard to push her.

"That how it felt when she left you? Kinder?" Her comment was hard, biting, even mean. There was no question who the "she" Reese was referring to was – it was Jennifer, his ex-wife, the one who left him in prison to rot while he was serving a life sentence for a crime he did not commit. It was one of his Achilles heels and Reese knew it. Her message was strong and unmistakable – back off.

His eyes narrowed and darkened. He regarded her for a long moment before giving her an answer, one she didn't want and did not expect. "No," he admitted, "it didn't feel kind at all."

His eyes shifted colors from the vibrant blue of balance and calm to the greenish gray of trouble and she'd done it. She was instantly sorry for going after him, but not sorry enough to admit it or apologize. She'd only wanted to shut him up, but she'd wounded him and he was going to take it out of her hide metaphorically speaking. She didn't get to do that to him anymore; not like before. Not like when they'd met and she'd been so cruel to him. Not like before he'd given his life in trade for hers.

"You wanna talk about this?" she testily started.

"Do you?" he caustically remarked. Anger and pain flashed in his eyes like warning lights at a sharp turn. He'd felt the burn of the acid on her tongue too many times to tolerate it when he didn't deserve it.

"No," she replied in huff, "but you…"

He interrupted her brusquely, "Don't pick a fight with me because you're mad at him. I'm not your boyfriend or your lover." He was angry and he seldom showed anger, almost never at her.

"I'm not angry at him," she willed calm, "and I'm not angry at you." There was a challenge in the look he returned, "but I shouldn't have said that. It was mean," she confessed.

"Why'd you leave him?"

There it was. Crews' price – the one he'd exact for her insult - the truth he'd make her give him in exchange for being her punching bag. She'd walked right into it. Her sigh was telling – but he waited. She was honest and true in this regard and she'd pay him what she owed, an absolute truth for her wrong.

"I…." she stammered and looked down. When her eyes returned to his, the blue was back in them and concern filled his face. Even when she struck out metaphorically at him, she could never push him very far away. "I was playing at something that was real for him. I wanted more – for him; I wanted more - for me. I couldn't do it anymore." She gutted out her confession but his eyes never changed and never left hers.

He simply looked at her and listened and observed; then after a long pause, he commented simply, "good for you Reese. Good for you," turned on the balls of his feet and walked away leaving her puzzled and confused.

He was expecting more - expecting something else, some sign or signal that intimated what Tidwell asserted was true. But Dani never changed; she gave him nothing to go on. Not one scintilla more than was required and she was always this way when it came to herself; closed off, private, even with him, even after this long.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

The overeager patrol officers were one step ahead of where the Homicide Detectives wanted them. The boys in blue had already been to Mr. Bottled Blonde's house and he'd let them search the house and his car – or more accurately, his Harley. They'd come up empty and he'd declined to be interviewed. The patrol officers taking it upon themselves to go after that husband chaffed Dani and she wasn't the least bit shy about letting them know.

"You were a little hard on them don't ya think," Charlie asked.

She turned while walking and shot him a disgusted look, which he took to mean "no." She didn't have a lot of patience in general, but even less with someone who got between them and an arrest. "He's our best suspect and because of Batman and Robin there," she gestured at the two men in blue she'd just given a tongue lashing, "we got nothing, we are nowhere."

She was right. The motel was not the sort that had security cameras; it was also not the sort of place where witnesses "saw" anything. Hours of knocking on doors netted them nothing. They were indeed nowhere. Vocalizing it earned her a knowing look and a smile from Crews. It was an inside joke of theirs, but she had no smiles for him today.

"I got an idea," he offered.

She stopped, crossed her arms, tapping her foot in annoyance as he explained his idea and then surprisingly, she agreed with him. This case required something else to get inside their best subject's confidence, something that would give them a chance of eliciting a confession or some sort of admission.

They waited for the uniforms to leave, parked unobtrusively under the shade of an elm tree and waited. Charlie ate his apple and Reese fidgeted. He made no further effort to engage her in conversation – the subject was still too fresh, too raw and too emotional for her, no matter what she said.

After an hour, she switched on the auxiliary switch to get the A/C moving and the radio came to life. He reached to turn it off, but she asked him not to. Something about music soothed Reese. He wasn't sure if it was the words or the music, but he watched her become more peaceful, more balanced and he concluded it didn't matter what it was – it only mattered that she relaxed.

Two and a half hours later, the Harley rumbled to life and Mr. Bottle Blonde roared past them with a wife beater t-shirt, jeans, boots and no helmet. They followed him all the way to the beach strip where he joined a group of muscled up men lifting serious weights.

Dani felt comfortable enough now to joke with him, "So…you wanna go out there and lift with them, bond with them?"

"I'd have a better chance of lifting this car," he admitted smiling.

She grinned in response and climbed from the car to get them both soft drinks.

She'd eased from their earlier conversation, in which he knew in truth he knew he was tougher on her than she deserved, than he should have been. Why he pushed her was still somewhat puzzling to him? Usually he left her alone, didn't press her for answers, but this was different. _Was it because of what Tidwell said?_ Was it because she hoped she'd realized their bond was beyond what either of them admitted?

He was still puzzling when she shoved an orange juice at him through his open window. She stood alongside the car watching the men lift weights. Her navel was about eye level for him and he couldn't see her, but he could smell her and that made things worse. She didn't see him look longingly at the button of her jeans and wonder how far off her he could get them in the back of that car. He was still musing naughty thoughts about his partner, when she reached into the car feeling for him.

Her hand fluttered across his cheek before making contact with where she intended – his shoulder. She tapped him twice with the back of her hand announced the weight lifters were leaving, but the subject seemed unlikely to leave anytime soon. She climbed back in the car and they waited.

Charlie complained about his hunger and she handed him a roll of breath mints. Exasperated he ate the whole roll. It made him smell like forest, but did nothing for his hunger. The sun sank lower and the last of the lingering weightlifters faded away returning to their homes, but their man stayed.

The suspect bought a six-pack of beer from a nearby package store on the boardwalk. He sat in the sand watching the sun sink into the Pacific Ocean and the sky turn pink and orange. He drank beer well into twilight.

"So far… your idea isn't getting us anywhere," Dani observed. "I could go offer to help him with that beer." She wasn't serious; she hadn't fallen off the wagon in a long time.

"I got another idea," he smiled softly, earning him a gentle eye roll from his partner, "a better idea. Come with me," he bade her. He popped the trunk on their car and they deposited their badges and guns inside. He took off his suit coat and tie, laying them atop the accoutrements of their job.

"Take off your shirt," he suggested while unbuttoning his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. She eyed him suspiciously, but did as he directed. He carefully laid her blouse atop his clothes and took her hand.

"Walk with me," he drew her along into the heavy sand. He hadn't exactly explained his plan to her – for a reason. She'd never go along with it. He needed to get close to the man they thought murdered his wife and her lover and he needed her surprise to sell his act. Her surprise was something he could count on, but it was going to cost him later – he never stopped to think about how much.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

"You and I are about to have a fight," he leaned in close and whispered against her cheek.

"About what?" she wondered under her breath.

He sat down in the sand and pulled her atop him and they landed somewhat awkwardly, but in the general position he intended. He was on his back and she straddled him. She was still finding her balance when he kissed her hard.

She pushed him away and whispered, "what the hell are you doing?" through clenched teeth. Her eyes were full of fury and fire.

"I want you to hit me," he told her gently.

"What? No!" her response was loud enough to draw the subject's attention.

Charlie grabbed her by both arms and pulled her tightly against his chest. "You need to hit me. Do it now," he said in a conspiratorial tone. He watched her struggle with what he asked. He knew in those moments that as tough as Dani Reese pretended to be she'd never hurt him intentionally. He'd have to make her.

He framed her face and kissed her again. It was a fierce, brutal kiss. He tasted her shock. She pushed against him to escape but he held her tight and continued. She struggled hard but he was far stronger than his smaller partner and she could not escape his grip. Then suddenly she stopped fighting and he felt something in her change. He no longer tasted shock, but registered instead desire.

The kiss twisted and was suddenly something neither expected. He eased and for just a moment he was just kissing her, not pretending something as a ploy. His tongue teased and she permitted him entry. He released her arms and ran his hands down to her buttocks and pulled her fully into his tight waist and obviously aroused manhood. He could have sworn she moaned and then she was gone.

Both her hands were on his chest and her eyes were nearly black with something that looked an awful lot like lust. He thought for a moment she was going to disrobe and jump him right there on that beach and he wouldn't have stopped her. Instead she drew back and hit him as hard as she could. Her fist made a loud smack as it impacted his pale cheek and he tasted blood in his mouth.

She climbed off him and stalked away through the heavy sand.

He rolled onto his side, watching her leave and completed the show, laughing loudly…."Come on baby, don't go away mad."

She looked over her shoulder and her eyes registered pure hatred and fury. He lay back on the sand and continued laughing loudly like it was some kind of game he was playing at.

After she was long out of sight and safely away, he stood and began knocking the sand off. He cast a look at the subject who was four beers into his six-pack and staring. "Can I buy one of those off you?" he opened.

The man mutely held up a can. Charlie took it, popped the top and toasted proudly, "To women. Can't live with'em. Can't shoot'em."

The subject began laughing with no sound. His chest heaved but no sound escaped. It was strange, but Crews continued. "She's got a husband, but he doesn't know how to treat her. She needs someone who knows how to treat her – someone who'll show her who's boss. You know what I mean?"

The other man nodded, but wisely stayed mute. Charlie turned and looked away at the almost gun orange orb on the horizon. "You married?" he asked boldly.

"Used to be," the man hiccupped.

"You cheat on her?"

"Uh-uh," he shook his head.

"She cheat on you?" Charlie wheeled as he asked the question.

The man nodded, "bitch was having a go with some biker from a bar near here. She came here where we came, where we met and picked up some guy…" he stopped talking and looked at Charlie hard.

Crews had to think fast or he'd lose the man. "That one?" He gestured in the direction Reese stalked off, "she came looking for trouble."

"Did she find it?" the man asked Charlie.

"Yeah," Crews sneered, "she did. She found me. Why don't I look like trouble?"

"You look like a banker," the man stated flatly.

"Looks isn't always what is," Crews confounded the man by staring directly, "bet you wouldn't have guessed I've killed men."

Mr. Bottled Blonde laughed a wheezing chortle and replied, "no, I'd have figured you more for a hairdresser….or a cop." His eyes were hard and cold. He wasn't stupid. He was testing Crews and watching for a reaction.

"Let me buy you a beer, return the favor," Crews offered and pointed to a neon sign about two hundred yards down the boardwalk behind them.

The man accepted and Crews helped him to his feet and they slogged through the heavy sand. Their path would take them right past the unmarked where he could make out Dani's shape in the driver's seat. He thought about altering course, but he looked up she was gone. Clever girl, he thought. She'd returned to the car and watched and was still watching – his back – even when he didn't deserve it.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

Two hours and seven shots of tequila later, they staggered from the bar and bid each other good night. Charlie had no idea how the subject was going to get home on that bike and even less of an idea how he'd get home, but looking up the block he was surprised to see the unmarked and Reese.

She was more loyal than he deserved and angrier than he could imagine.

He stumbled to the car, pulled on the passenger door and finding it locked, tapped on the window lightly with his knuckles. He heard the door unlock and opened it maneuvering himself down into the car. He was tired and nearly sick from the all the tequila. He'd no sooner gotten into the car, when Dani climbed out and slammed her door – hard. She was still pissed.

He looked at his watch – it was approaching three hours since he'd kissed her and she was still mad. He watched her pace up and down the sidewalk near the car. She was muttering to herself and he leaned down to examine her through the windshield. He was just about to climb out and talk to her when she got back into the car, started the engine and drove off quickly. The speed of her driving was making him a little nervous.

"I know you're mad," he began his speech slurred slightly.

"And you're drunk," she stated the patently obvious.

He opened his mouth to object and then snapped it shut. After a moment he agreed with her, "yep, I'm drunk."

"Well, that's just fucking great Crews," she berated him, "did you learn anything?"

"You got a helluva right hook," he twisted his jaw with his right hand working the lower half which would be sore in the morning. "I thought you'd slap me," he commented mostly to himself.

"Why in the hell couldn't you have told me your plan?" she snapped.

"Because," his voice was low and dangerous, "I needed you to be surprised." The liquor had loosened his inhibitions. He wasn't Crews Pelican Bay Inmate #27148, but he wasn't an LAPD Detective right then either.

"You aren't easy to surprise," his tone was menacing, laced with threat. He liked that he could see the gooseflesh on her arm. She was frightened by his transformation. He needed her to be – to remember who he was and what he was capable of. He needed her to stay away, no matter how badly he wanted her to be close.

"Drop me here," he growled, "I'll catch a cab."

"We need to talk about what happened here," she argued.

"We can talk tomorrow," he countered.

"No dammit," she barked, "we're gonna talk about it now." She had three hours to work this out in her head. She had three hours to think about why she should have been shocked and angry with him instead of excited. She had three hours to wonder why she'd let him kiss her. Not the first time, but the second; part of her already knew. She wanted him to kiss her and she had for a long time now.

"Dani," his voice had an edge to it, "I need to be alone now. I'm dangerous and you need to remember that. You need to…."

"Don't you fuckin' tell me what I need Crews," she spat at him.

She continued driving at frightening speeds towards his mansion high in the Hollywood hills. They didn't talk the rest of the way. He watched her drive and imagined the things he'd like to do to her, with her - for a long time before he put his head back and let the blackness take him.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

He awoke to bright sunlight and white walls. The sun was so brilliant it hurt. It had been a long time since he'd been hung over and longer still since he'd made decisions he'd regretted. He wondered if Reese was one of those now.

She lounged against the headboard of his bed reading something in a folder – something she probably shouldn't be reading, something she probably shouldn't know.

"Is that from my closet?" his voice rough from sleep asked seriously.

"Uh-huh," she kept reading and didn't look up.

"You shouldn't…" he began forcing himself into a sitting position, which hurt terribly. He groaned and pitched forward putting his head in his hands.

She was completely nonplussed. "If you're gonna be sick," she commented without acknowledging him or his pain, "make it to the bathroom. I'm not your maid." It stood to reason she wouldn't feel sorry for him; having endured her share of hangovers. She knew from experience; this type of wound was self-inflicted.

He staggered to the bathroom and vomited the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He wryly thought he could really use that roll of breath mints now. He managed to get into the shower, briefly wondering who took everything but his boxers off him last night, before the scalding water brushed the remaining cobwebs from his brain.

She did. He remembered her small nimble hands unbuttoning his shirt and pants and him wobbling looking down at her in awe.

After his shower, he thought to shave but decided to forgo it, as the razor would be too loud for his hangover. He brushed his teeth and examined himself in the mirror. Haggard and worn he expected, but the blossoming black eye brought the rest of the evening back to him.

He remembered his hands in her hair and his mouth on hers, this time gently, cautiously and every so slowly. He distinctly recalled her biting his lip and then a sharp jab to his eye that resulted in the nice shiner he now wore.

"Jesus," he exhaled. "I have so fucked this up."

"Yes," she agreed appraising him from the doorway. He was still naked with just a towel wrapped around his waist. Her gaze lingered a bit too long over his torso, before settling on his battered face. "Yes, you have so fucked this up, Crews."

He looked chagrinned and was neither the lustful demon lover from the sandy beach nor the tortured ex-con from the bar. He was once again her tarnished angel, bruised and battered but still standing.

"So help me God," she swore approaching, "if you ever kiss me like that again – those will be the least of your injuries," she warned teasing. Her nails raked across his bare chest.

"I won't," he vowed solemnly, then lightly captured her hands in his. She arched a brow and tensed. "That wasn't me, that wasn't how I'd," he toyed with fire.

"That wasn't you?" she interrupted. "How could that not be you?'

"It was just for show," he lied, "you know for the case?"

"You don't remember kissing me again last night? Here? In this room?"

His jaw was slack and features blank, "here?"

"Right before I put you to bed because you were too drunk to…" she didn't finish her comment. He wondered if the end of that sentence was the same in her brain as it was in his…."too drunk to fuck."

"I want to apologize," he offered stepping closer.

"Say you're sorry then," she held his eyes.

"I can't," he admitted. "I'm not sorry." Her eyes narrowed and darkened. "Only that it wasn't how I'd have liked to kiss you," he was bold if nothing else.

She looked down, blushed from her neck to her nose in a deep red and then her eyes returned to him. "Not sorry for the right hook?"

He shook his head no.

"Not sorry for the shiner or the split lip?"

Again his head shook, indicating no.

"I don't get you," she told him flatly, "what exactly are you apologizing for?"

"For doing it wrong, for not having kissed you like I should have," he brushed his knuckles down her cheek.

"After all the abuse you've taken, you sure you want to go back for Round Three?" she smiled softly, but did not retreat.

"Absolutely," he grinned. He waited for her eyes to give him the permission he sought and then leaned down and inhaled her scent across her neck and collarbone. He trailed his fingers across her jaw and sunk his hands into her hair. He lightly nibbled on her upper lip and then licked her lower before planting a soft wet kiss there. He felt the intake of air and then fused his mouth to hers. He teased her with his tongue, feinting and retreating as she strained to keep her hands by her sides. Twice he registered her raise her hands to touch him and then not.

He wasn't there yet. He pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes.

She eased and exhaled a nervous, "that was much better," before he locked her in a deep stare and pronounced. "I'm not finished yet," in a low tone that left no question of his desires.

He twisted and captured her lips again; this time, it wasn't lust or dominance. It wasn't bravado or a display of power. This time it was achingly personal, with long, deep thrusts of his tongue and slowly drawing the breath from her. This time her hands lost the battle and he felt them ride up his chest to his throat and wind around his neck. She pulled him down into her.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

Their cell phones ringing in tandem interrupted them. Reese answered first and was told by Tidwell that Mr. Bottle Blonde was dead. She repeated this fact aloud looking at Charlie the whole time.

"I didn't do it," he objected, "I was here with you," he whispered. She stopped his with her hand across his mouth. A few more salient facts from Tidwell ended the call.

"He shot himself," she repeated dully, "they think it's the same gun that killed his wife and her lover."

"Hmm," he hummed across her shoulder as stood behind her and dipped to kiss her neck. "I thought he might do that," he explained.

"Why?" she wondered turning in his arms to face him.

"When you find the right one – no one can ever replace them," he told her. "When faced with the fact his "one" was gone, he couldn't continue. Imagine living the rest of your life knowing that one special someone was gone and you could never get her back. You couldn't wait, you couldn't be patient, you couldn't forgive – that she was lost to you forever. Life wouldn't be worth living."

"Guess you were lucky then," she disconnected.

"How so?" he was truly perplexed.

"To be in prison when yours left," she explained. "Gave you some time to get used to her being gone," she clearly thought Jennifer was who he referring to.

"Jennifer's not that for me," he stood his ground and watched her nervously clean up the clutter. "Dani, stop that," he ordered in a low tone. "She's not my one," he waited till she glanced up and stopped her cold with the look in his eyes, "you are."

Reese stared at him a long moment, then she left the room and him in a hurry. By the time he followed he could hear the engine of her car start. He was standing in his driveway wearing nothing but a towel when she sped off.

She watched him getting smaller in the rearview mirror, a pale man, beaten and bloodied but not bowed in a towel standing in front of an impossibly large house with no furniture. He was a lunatic, a stark raving madman – and yet, she was pretty sure she loved him.

It scared her worse than anything had in a long time: worse than the drugs, worse than being chained in that basement with Roman's men and his dogs, worse than losing her lover in a pool of blood, worse than disappointing her father. Charlie Crews, the man she trusted more than anyone now made her afraid – not of him, but of herself. So she ran….


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten_

She went straight to the nearest supermarket and bought the cheapest bottle of rot gut vodka she could find. She left the supermarket in the light of day, just as the sun was at it's highest and went straight home to her apartment, shut all the windows and sat alone in the dark.

Well, the almost dark – because even with all the doors and windows shut and drapes and blinds drawn light seeped in. She laughed at her inability to shut it out, shut him out. Her own voice sounded strange to her – alone in the almost dark.

How very like Crews…light was…impossible to shut out. Damn him...this was never supposed to happen, she was never supposed to care about him, or his damned private agenda - but mostly she'd tried to avoid becoming attached to him. He, of the light and bright smiles and Zen. She wasn't light; she was darkness - and determinedly so.

Before her on the table sat the fifth of vodka with some sort of red fire breathing bird on the label, maybe it was a dragon she wondered and looked closely, but it was too dark for clarity. Just like her life… There was enough light to see by, but not enough to make out the specifics. She could see things in broad strokes, but not the finer details.

She twisted the top of the bottle and it made a satisfying grating noise, as the cap broke free. Like ripping off a band-aid it revealed a fresh wound. Then the smell hit her; one part kerosene, one part astringent and wholly unappetizing. But then she didn't drink for the taste; she drank for the effect…for the ability of liquor to erase worry from her mind, to erase everything from her mind.

She poured the clear liquid into the waiting vessel; a short juice glass and again Crews sprang unbidden to her mind. Crews would never have used the glass for anything but it's intended beverage – orange juice, perhaps apple or grape, but juice and only juice, not this…never this.

Maybe that was what she needed she thought; something to cut the harshness, a blend to make it more palatable. Like their partnering, mild acceptance, neither fruit nor alcohol; neither light nor dark - something in-between. She walked to her fridge, knowing full well there was nothing resembling fruit juice inside, but walking away from temptation nonetheless.

She opened the door, looked inside and found no orange juice or truth lurking therein. She shut the door and leaned against the smooth coolness of the white enamel fridge. A shuddered sigh was released as she slid down the surface and sat on the floor.

Less than 24 hours earlier, she'd made what she thought was a clean break from a pleasant mistake. She hadn't left Tidwell for Crews…or had she? Tidwell thought she had and he'd said so. The harsh accusation that should have stayed on his tongue was hurled at her as she left.

"It's because of him isn't it?" She didn't have to ask who the "him" was – she knew.

She told herself it wasn't because of Crews.

But after what Crews had just said, after what he'd just done, now she was no longer sure.

How could she be his "one?" She'd only just cracked the door and peeked at the possibility of Crews being something more than her partner, when he walked right past all her carefully constructed defenses and laid himself bare.

And what had she done? Run…

She sighed in frustration and anger. She picked herself up off the floor and walked back to the table. She stood examining her options. The bottle and her service pistol sat side by side on her kitchen table. It had to be one or the other, but not both. She could be a cop or a drunk and the choice was hers.

Her phone buzzed insistently in her pocket. She wondered if it was him and then just as suddenly knew it wasn't. He wouldn't pursue her. He'd give her space, he give her time and enough rope to hang herself. He knew she'd come to him because he'd wait forever. _Damn him._

She pulled the phone and answered it without looking with absolute certainty it had to be work. "Reese," she said a little more shakily than she wanted to.

"Dani...Detective," Tidwell corrected himself. "You and your partner planning on making an appearance at work today?"

She thought about what people would think when Crews showed up wearing the battle scars she'd put on him. It weighed on her.

"Reese?" Tidwell questioned the empty air, "are you there?"

"Uh – yeah," she sighed and then stammered back to reality, "I'm…I'm on my way."

"Dani? Are you okay?" Tidwell asked and his concern bled through the officiousness of the call. She smiled. Despite all they'd been through and what she'd just done, he still cared. He probably always would.

"Yeah," she said softly, "I'm okay." She was no longer sure of this fact, but it sounded reassuring and seemed to be what she should say, should feel, how she should be. Only she wasn't. She wasn't okay at all.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven_

He was dressed and still feeling like death warmed over by noon when his phone rang. It was her; it had to be. He felt his mouth go dry and his palms begin to sweat. She'd be mad, confused and befuddled all in one breath.

"Hey," he answered sounding calmer than he felt.

"Tidwell needs us at work," she said tersely. The line was filled with empty air and tension so thick you could cut it with his knife. "Crews?" she questioned. He could hear the edge in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm here," he reassured. "I'll….I'll…uh meet you there. I have a stop to make first," he bought some time. He hadn't the foggiest idea what stop he'd make, where or what he'd get there, but he needed to think.

The line went dead as she hung up.

"Shit," he swore softly. He dressed quietly in a navy suit and pale blue shirt with purple tie and then walked to his car. The soles of his Johnston Murphy wingtip echoed in the emptiness of his house. It hadn't seemed empty six hours earlier when she was there with him.

He made one stop on the way, at a Starbucks for coffee, his and hers, like he'd done so many times before. He gave no thought to how he looked. He gave no thought to the looks he got or how much the coffee cost, only to the dark eyed woman who he'd be sitting across from in twenty minutes and what a dark path he'd set them both on.

As he stepped off the elevator, holding a Styrofoam cup in each hand, so deep in thought that he'd nearly run into Bobby Stark. He wasn't looking anywhere but their conjoined desks, the place she should be but wasn't.

"Easy there, big fella," Stark easily dodged their near collision. He let out a long low whistle, "call for backup next time," he joked.

Charlie's dark look was an obvious "don't go there" comment but Stark just kept on talking. "Who kicked your ass big guy?"

Charlie stood there unable to make his mouth move, so instead he pasted his standard plastic smile on his face and said nothing.

"I did," came a voice he knew from behind him. It was her. He looked down and she was there, looking whole and normal and fine.

"That for me?" she questioned.

He mutely stuck the coffee cup at her with a solemn "yep" in response.

Stark just laughed, unfolding a piece of chewing gum and stuffing it into his mouth. As he put the gum in his mouth and looked from Crews to Reese and back musing the possibility that what Reese said might have some truth to it.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Reese inquired in her usual annoyed tone when it came to Stark.

Stark slapped Charlie on the shoulder and looked at him as if to say "sorry buddy" and then shouted "Juarez, let's go," into the break room.

"Thanks for the coffee," Reese directed at Crews. "Can you function? Can you work?" She was all business, not one sliver of his mouth fused to hers and their hands all over each other hours earlier bled through.

"I….uh," he was unusually unsure of himself.

She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the stairwell. "Look," she said dropping his hand as soon as they cleared the door. "I got a boss in there that up until two days ago I was sleeping with," she chided him in a terse whisper. "If that wasn't bad enough I can't have you walking around all sheepish and moon-eyed," she chastised him.

"Now, you stop this or I'm getting a new partner," her eyes delivered the seriousness of her warning. "And I don't want a new partner," she softened it a bit with a tight smile and a bit of humor as she turned to leave.

"But you don't want me," he said quietly to her back. He wanted to let it go, but seemed incapable now she was nearly his. He was in love with the idea of her, of them together. He didn't have the faintest idea of how it would work, just that he wanted it, them, her.

She froze with her hand on the door. They stayed there a long moment as time stretched, then he stepped close and rumbled his assertion again, "but you don't want me either - do you?"

He felt her temperature rise and knew without seeing she was biting her lip. "Reese?" he questioned.

"I do," she admitted, "and that's the problem." She opened the door walked through and let it close with a solid thud in her wake. She left him standing in the stairwell with a stunned look on his face for the second time in twelve hours.

The silence of the cloistered area descended on him and he pulled a Zen rabbit out of his hat. He breathed deeply and centered himself before stepping into the rest of his day. The air was pregnant with possibility and heavy with danger.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve_

It didn't take more than fourteen minutes for Tidwell to notice Charlie's face. He wanted to ask, but he didn't. Two hours later, the curiosity that killed the cat threatened to do him in too. He leaned out of his office and called to the man for the second time in as many days, "Crews? A word?"

"Hope he's not gonna try and kiss me," Charlie deadpanned.

Dani hid her smile behind her hand.

Things had returned to semi-normal, or rather normal for them. He pretended not to love her and she pretended not to care. They worked the case and didn't talk about the evening prior. There was evidence to catalogue, lab requests to author and reports to write, even if their main suspect was dead. The work did not stop until the evidence supported what they already knew.

He glanced over at her before shutting the door to Tidwell's office and she was looking at him, just as she always did – assessing, weighing and measuring. He smiled softly and closed the door, just as he always did. She returned to her work.

"Wanna tell me how you got that shiner?" Tidwell was perturbed.

"Not really," Charlie was honest.

"She give it to you?" Tidwell pushed.

"I got it last night working the case," he replied. It was sort of true; from one perspective.

"You didn't answer me," Tidwell challenged.

"No," Charlie held his rival's eyes, "I didn't." There was iron in his voice and conviction in his eyes. The unspoken part of his message was clear – "_and I'm not going to_."

"Crews," Tidwell almost whined. "Dude, she's crazy messed up. You're a train wreck," he rationalized. "Leave her alone," he was almost making sense except that one part of him was still holding on to the idea Reese would come back.

"She didn't leave you for me," Crews said plainly.

"No?" Tidwell questioned. "Then why?"

And then it dawned on Charlie, like a bolt from the blue and saying it made it real, "she left you for herself. To stand on her own and to be okay like that."

Each man puzzled the words Crews had just uttered and what they meant to each of them.

Then without a word Crews opened the door and walked out effectively ending the conversation. He sat down heavily, opposite her.

"You guys kiss and make up?" she joked darkly without looking up.

"I owe you an apology," he said dully. The fact he'd discovered was still new to him and it felt awkward and real at the same time.

"Thought we did that earlier," she risked a glance at him.

"No," he vowed. "I thought I knew, but I didn't. Not like I do now. I know now why you left him and it wasn't about me."

Her brow twitched. This was dangerously personal for the work place and made her six shades of uncomfortable, but she knew Charlie and there was no shutting him up until he'd said what he meant to, "go on."

"You're okay," he smiled in awakening. "You're really okay and strong enough to be that all on your own. You don't need him, you don't need me, you don't need anyone."

She was impressed. She returned his gaze and then smiled softly, "that's right."

He sighed and began to return to work. She stopped him with a promise, "but just because I don't need someone - doesn't mean I don't want someone in my life." He blinked and swallowed, then she added, "someday," enigmatically without looking at him.

Her comment made him happy and sad simultaneously.

"I guess knowing that someday is out there and one day someday will get here will have to do for now," he offered meekly.

"Careful," she teased, "that sounds dangerously like believing in the future, which we both know doesn't exist."

Guess so," he commented neutrally.

She continued to work, but after a few minutes returned to teasing him, "I thought not knowing was something Buddhists aspire to."

"It is," he replied sheepishly, "but I'm not entirely Zen. There are some aspects of Zen I struggle with."

"No kidding," she deadpanned. They both laughed.

He'd give a thousand sunny days for just one of her smiles. Not knowing was something he tried to be content with, but at the time, on this day, with this woman he was having a particularly hard time with it. Still time was on his side and he was a patient man.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: I could have stopped at Twelve and let them be, but angst is what I do best and I can't seem to let these two wonderful characters drift and die, so the adventure continues. If you review, please LMK what you think of the direction and story as I craft it as I go and some things ring true while others do not. I'm interested to know what works - and what doesn't as well._

* * *

**A Dark Path - Chapter 13**

"There is no place you need to be but here. There is nothing you need to do, but this," she heard him only because he repeated it - twice. His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper meant only for himself but the stillness and the annoying fact she was tuned to his frequency allowed her to hear it.

"Crews," she barked to get his attention. She was instantly sorry for her tone.

His eyes snapped open; they were a deep, inviting, cerulean blue and littered with unshed tears. Before him lay the body of yet another broken child. It pissed her off but it made him melancholic in a way that made it hurt her – just to look at him.

He blinked and just as quickly it was gone. He was hiding his pain and empathy away from a world that had taught him those traits were weaknesses. She hated whoever had done that to him; as much as the man who'd done it to her. For a fragment of a second her mind followed that tangent and she realized maybe that man was the same for both of them – her father, Jack Reese.

"Reese?" he questioned. There was concern in his eyes and hidden behind his plastic smile.

"Let's just work the case," she brushed his concern aside and pushed past him. She knelt over the body of little girl and began examining her.

Crews remained standing, just watching over them; the little girl he'd been unable to save and the one he was unable to protect.

In his mind he was in the past, on the day when she'd left him standing in his driveway in bare feet and a towel and sped away. He returned upstairs to his empty bedroom and found what she'd been reading – documents from his closet, from his private off the books investigation. Now he wondered about her distance and the reasons behind it.

_Did she push him away because of what she'd read that day and how it made her feel? Was the distance he felt between them now because of what he was examining about her father? Or was it him she feared? And if it was him… was it the LAPD Detective using his unfettered access to police data to pursue a private vendetta? Or was it the ex-con and seriously damaged, broken man with the audacity to profess his love for her?_

He watched her work, slowly peeling back the layers of the dead child's life. Her lifeless eyes faced away from her staring at Crews while time layered opaque whiteness over what was once a gentle brown like his partners. The girl's long dark locks were reminiscent of hers also on those rare days when she released her hair its captive rubber band prison.

"What do you see?" she asked him looking up.

"She looks like you," he observed without thinking. Her scowl was instantaneous and he scrambled to cover the very personal observation. "I mean how I imagine you looked when you were her age," he softened.

"Focus – Crews," she snapped angrily at his distraction. She looked at the ceiling rotated her shoulders and fixed him with a dark glare. "Now….tell me what you're thinkin'…about the case," she qualified.

"Right," he focused again on the present. He used to be so good at this – living in the now. "I think she was running from something or someone," he posited. "She lost a shoe," he noted. "Someone who hurt her," he added, bending to turn her arm over and expose fingertip bruises on the child's pale soft under arm.

"It's usually those closest to us that can hurt us the most," Dani noted presciently.

He wondered if her comment was about him or her father. He looked at her attempting to divine the answer to his unspoken question.

"You know," she suggested clarifying, "her parents?" She knew how his brain worked and that he'd interpret more into what she'd said than what she meant – or what she meant to mean. _Damn him and his circular logic, now he had her doing it too, _she thought.

"Yep," he popped and then clammed up. They weren't working – not like before. Before he kissed her, they'd work as a team, back and forth, give and take.

"This is weird, right?" she observed when they were safely seated in their unmarked with both doors shut. "You and me, it's weird; it's different."

"Change is part of life," he suggested.

"So help me God Crews if you quote Zen to me," Reese spoke through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," he sighed, giving in to her apprehension, "a little weird."

"What do you suggest we do about it?"

"You don't wanna know what I wanna do," he teased darkly. He wasn't afraid of danger and tended to walk right into ambushes, even ones he set for himself.

She had to give him points for his bravery. "I can guess," she toyed with fire. There was an electrifyingly bold element to her voice. "Does it start with making out in the back of this car?"

He gulped hungrily and she laughed. "That's never going to happen, Crews."

For a moment the bubble of insecurity and distrust that enveloped them stretched and he could breathe again. He smiled as she started the car, looking straight ahead into the future and replied softly, "I know Reese, I know."


	14. Chapter 14

**A Dark Path – Chapter 14**

The child was Madeline Martin, age six, the youngest of Abigail and Silas Martins' three children. The older children were at school when the search warrant came through. Normally, Dani would have respected their grief, but that neither parent seemed particularly affected and no one reported the six-year-old girl missing - just plain pissed her off.

Her radar was off the grid angry. Little red dots beeped before her eyes. Crews was sullen and withdrawn. It was a recipe for disaster and portended evil things, things she didn't want to see, didn't want to know – except that she did.

So they served the warrant, but the Crime Scene Techs were on a fresh homicide and two hours away. Tidwell told them to wait, but Dani didn't want to wait. She wanted to know. That was her strength and her weakness – wanting to know. Crews' weakness was her and so they searched - just the two of them and a couple uni's that Crews could get to help out - Stark and Juarez.

They were four hours into tossing the house. She was beginning to wonder if Crime Scenes was ever going to make an appearance. It was 2PM and they were ankle deep in clutter and trash searching the house of a couple that appeared to be hoarders. was making both of them anxious and Charlie was beginning to wonder if years of living in an institutionalized setting had made him a bit OCD. When he pulled at the collar of his shirt for the eleventh time in thirty minutes, Reese called him on it.

"What's your damage Heather?" she asked in a pinched tone.

He didn't understand her pop culture reference, but there was no mistaking her question. "I'm…it's a little….it's stuffy in here right?" he deflected.

"It's dirty, grimy, cluttered, smelly and yes…there's a lot stuffed in here," she bit back on her annoyance. It wasn't him, it was the clutter and tight quarters that were making her uncomfortable too. She was sweating and the rubber gloves she wore were sticking to her in unappealing ways.

"Can we?" he motioned toward the exterior door where open air and sunshine awaited them. At this point even Reese welcomed it. She nodded her acquiescence and followed him as he straightened and headed towards it his long legs carrying him easily over the piled artifacts that littered the room.

As she clambered over the clutter, she stumbled and wasn't surprised to find his steady hand on her. The warmth of his palm bled through her shirt and then just as quickly he released her and stepped away. He was still stinging from her refusal to talk about what he'd shared with her. He was distant and uncharacteristically cold, but she knew that his warmth was only a shy smile away. A smile she refused him because she didn't want to raise his hopes. Her hard-won independence and confidence hovered on the edge of a very sharp cliff and yet, she knew instinctively that he was the safety rope that held her in place.

She was sure of him in a way she thought was lost to her. Part of her strength came from a place deep inside that he had awakened. She hadn't known it before they met and she wondered how much of it relied upon him and just how much came from within. Like most confident professional women there were depths of self-esteem issues that stayed hidden from her work place and work mates. But he was different. So very different - in weird ways and in ways that made her feel safe and whole again.

She didn't trust anyone, she didn't believe in people – except that she did - in the most unlikely of souls - in him. He was solid, sure and steady. She knew his feelings ran deep and were true. She hoped that some days hers would match his, but she tread cautiously. Crews was also patient and not many people had shown Dani Reese patience. She could count them on one hand; her therapist, her mother, a few teachers, but not men and never a lover.

All her talks with her mother lately centered around him; not her still missing father, not her recent boyfriend, but her partner. Her mother knew him now in broad strokes, not by his name, but by his actions – saving her from Roman, being wronged by many and his persistent belief that she alone was the salve that could heal his many wounds. Her mother was sure of his love for her, as was Dani. What she was unsure of was herself. What if she screwed this up and lost him? He'd become important, perhaps irreplaceable and fear held her back.

"What's wrong?" he probed sensing her quandary.

"We are," she answered directly. "I can't…" she began but was interrupted by Bobby Stark shouting, "Hey Charlie. You need to see this."

They both headed in the direction of Starks' voice and found him standing the middle of a hallway. He pointed at various bedrooms and pronounced, "Annabeth… Chauncey and their parents, Abigail and Silas."

Reese looked dumbfounded and gave her best "so what" expression to Stark, but Crews smiled and it was one of those smiles that heralded a hidden clue.

"What?" she asked him.

"Bobby is showing us what's not there. Aren't you Bobby?" Crews smiled and clapped Stark on the shoulder.

"Think there's hope for me Charlie?" Stark asked his old friend.

"I think there's hope for everyone," Crews replied but he was looking straight at Dani as he said the words, "but lately a lot of the things I thought have been wrong."

She looked away, knowing his intent was to talk to her. It was about the case and it wasn't about the case. It was about the two of them, except that it wasn't – not really, she just felt him there in her space, in her head, in her heart and it wasn't as scary as she'd expected. That alone frightened her.

"There's no room for Madeline," she let the dawn break over her as she returned to the case and got out of her own head. "She doesn't even merit her own room," she turned around in the hall, examining the bedrooms again. "She's invisible, as if all signs she was ever here were erased."

"No one is invisible," Crews voice was low and only for her ears, "even if no one sees them. They are still there. They still matter and you can still feel them. Close your eyes and the thousand things they are and do invade you. A flower grows if it is not loved, a weed grows…"

She glared at him, but he continued after a moment, intent on having his say, "not loved, not wanted? Maybe, but invisible? No."

He was right there. He was talking to her without talking about them. He was speaking in ways that were real and meaningful, textured and layered and designed specifically to drive little wedges of light into her determined circle of darkness.

"Invisibility should have protected her," she noted caustically.

"Except that it didn't," he interjected. "You can't protect yourself with nothing."

"Thought there couldn't be nothing?" she reminded him.

His smile was small and not true, but he ceded the ground before him and let her have it. Behind her little victory, the earth was scorched and barren as if nothing of him remained. She was wining the battles and losing the longer war.


	15. Chapter 15

**A Dark Path – Chapter 15**

She was angry with him. She was angry with herself. They were brittle and fragile like tiny bits of frozen energy ready to snap off and spin into space. He sat just three feet from her, yet in truth he was miles away.

He hadn't eaten fruit for days – at least not any she'd seen. The reason for this was unclear to her, but she could guess and she knew she'd be close, but he wouldn't admit it.

He felt it too; that uneasiness, the fragility of their bond, which was stretched to the breaking point because he loved her and she refused to let him. He was snapping a rubber band against his wrist idly. She was trying to do paperwork and failing. She bit into her pencil and grimaced at the taste of lead on her tongue and flecks of paint on her lips.

"I'm gonna go…" she began.

"Get coffee," he supplied the rest of her thought dully without looking up.

"Come with me?" she invited. His motion stopped and he considered it for a moment before his head began to shake no before the words could leave his mouth. "Fine," she snapped.

She was standing at the kiosk waiting for her latte when he approached. His eyes were hidden but something in his posture made her know he wasn't there for coffee. He stood in front of her, his long shadow covering her and held still and silent a moment considering his words.

"Change your mind?" she tried to joke to keep him from going somewhere dangerous for both of them. "Decide you can't go another day without an orange?"

"Dani," he interrupted. His tone was deep and low. It commanded her full attention. "They found your father." He said nothing more, but she knew from the way he said it that Jack Reese wasn't alive when they found him.

He hadn't said _I found your father_. To her knowledge, no one else was looking for or at Jack Reese except her partner, the man with her father's photo pinned to the wall in his closet with notes on butcher paper about a robbery from the 1980's. He hadn't said _your father came home_; he chose his words carefully. He'd told her that Jack was dead without actually saying the words.

"I wanna…" she began. Her own voice sounded strange to her.

"Go there?" he confirmed, "You want to go there?" He sighed heavily knowing the fight he was in for. "No," he was firm in his denial.

She was instantly angry, livid and a hundred other unnamable emotions. She brushed past him and he grabbed her by the elbow and spun her. She slapped him hard, but he held her tight against his chest.

She registered the cool, smoothness the fine cotton his shirt was made from, the crisp masculine cologne he used and the steady thumping of his heart against her before he bent to speak words meant for her and her alone.

"Whatever else he was, he was your father and I know you loved him," his lips brushed her ears in a low rumble. "I won't let you see him like that. I won't let you remember him like that." He released her when he felt the fight leave her. He stepped back and tenderly brushed a stray lock from her cheek.

She batted his hand away. "I don't need you….anyone to look out for me," she shot back still emotional, but trying to distance herself from what she craved. She wanted to stay there listening to the sure and solid beat of his warm heart.

"I know, Reese, I know," he reached back and retrieved her forgotten latte.

He placed the coffee in her hands and wrapped them around the cup with his over hers, holding them against the cup for a moment. The hot liquid became uncomfortable through the thin skin of the cup. "Just because someone helps you – it doesn't weaken you," he offered and released her hands. "It releases some of the heat, some of the pressure, but doesn't make it go away."

She stared at him as her hands cooled. He was still the same man. He was still her partner and still the man she trusted more than she trusted herself. She nodded and her rage died like a slow fire going out.

"I'll take you home," he said simply. "You'll want to be with your mother," he knew her and where she'd go when she was hurt. Like most people she'd go home to her mother. Crews' mother died while he was in prison, this much she knew. He had no friends except Early. _Where did he go?_ She wondered.

_Six hours later…._

It had been a long day. Battling the heat, Crews and crime. She held it together when she felt like she'd break into a million sharp pieces of glass – to be strong for her mother. It left her drained. She felt like someone pulled the plug at the bottom of the world and the goodness was being sucked out of her.

She was tired, soul weary and bone tired and he was waiting for her when she walked through the door; the firebird, the dragon, or whatever mythical beast graced the bottle that promised freedom from all her problems came from a clear liquid that burned as it went down. It took less than a minute for her to give in.

Her eyes watered as the liquor burned it's way down her throat. She wanted it to burn the house down and her with it. She choked back the tears; they weren't real anyway, just her body's way of expressing pain and anguish. If she ignored them they weren't real. Just like him, if she kept ignoring him, kept pushing him away – then what she felt wouldn't be real. It couldn't be.

She drank past the taste, past the burn, until her eyes glazed over, until everything became blurry and she quit only when she dropped the glass, which conveniently rolled under the table. She was too tired to retrieve it and too unmotivated to get a fresh one. She pushed her chair back and looked at the sad little juice glad lying on its side under her kitchen table.

She imagined it filled with orange juice and the color orange pervaded her thoughts. A series of disconnected scenes flashed before her: rows of oranges, shiny and neat in large crates, Crews with his orange hair lit by the sun lying in tall green grass amongst trees with dark green leaves laden with dots of orange fruit. He smiled at her with eyes the color of the sky. She wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn't. He'd done nothing more horrific than care.

It was hours before she moved from that spot, but when she did it was to him she went.


	16. Chapter 16

**A Dark Path – Chapter 16**

It was nearly 10PM and he was still trying to assemble a barbeque grill on the patio when he heard a car pull into his drive. He wasn't expecting company so he met her at the door with a pistol in his hand. He couldn't be too cavalier about his safety. Even with Roman dead and Jack Reese out of the picture, Mickey Rayborne was still out there.

She was trying to get out of the car and he knew – before she said a word, before the smell of liquor hit him - that she as drunk. Not tipsy, not mildly under the influence, but stinking drunk. That she managed to navigate her car from her side of town to his without being pulled over or killing someone was nothing short of a miracle. _Had he done this? Had the pressure taken her from a place of confidence to this? _He put his pistol on the table in the foyer while she rounded her car, straightened.

She seemed shocked to see him. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I live here," he replied neutrally stating the obvious. This seemed to throw her and she returned a bewildered look. "Dani?" he called her back to him as she drifted away, "why are you here?"

"I can't understand why I can't let go," her voice was cloudy but her message clear.

He wasn't sure who she meant – him or her father. He hoped against hope – she couldn't let go of him.

"Maybe you're not ready to let go," his hope helped her along, but remained neutral lest her quandary be about her father instead of her partner. He continued to be preoccupied with the thought, the hope that it was him she didn't want to let go of.

This made sense to her pickled brain. "You know what I'm not," she said angrily, "I'm not ready for this. Dammit! Why you do this to us, Crews?" she hit him in the shoulder. He didn't answer, so she hit his again and she kept hitting him. Until he wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her tightly against him.

He felt her sag heavily against his chest and the fight go out of her. He gathered he against his arms and mumbled apologies interspersed with kisses into her soft brown hair. He shushed her and the house was quiet and still. Time stopped and they were just there – together. Neither really wanted to move on, but both knew they had to.

"Why do you always have to get drunk to come here?"

"I'm not brave enough to look you in the eye," she stumbled over the words and spoke into his chest, "I can't tell you how I feel without it."

"Yes, you can," he implored, "You've always been able to tell me anything,"

"I don't want to lose this, us, you. I think I….no, not think - I'm sure….I want you to…" she wandered off metaphorically. The wave of liquor coming off her could have gotten him drunk.

"Come on, " he steered her into the house, "let's get you to bed." She snickered a small laugh.

"I didn't mean like that," he qualified in a chiding tone.

"What if I did?" she questioned. She managed a pivot on his stairs, which was a remarkable feat considering her level of intoxication. His position a full step lower put her at his level and her arms wound around his neck, "what if I did?" Her voice was a husky murmur against his lips as she pulled him down to her.

He didn't resist; he didn't want to. He knew this was wrong; she was confused and drunk. This was only going to make things worse, but the moment her lips touched his he lost most of his argument. Conscious thought fled. He could still make out the taste of coffee on her lips and before he had time to fully realize it his mouth was fused her hers in a heated kiss.

Her tongue moved against his and she moaned need into his mouth. His desire was a horse charging from the gate. It covered ground in large leaps. His hands were in her hair and then her body was aligned with his. Just as suddenly her hands were on him and everywhere she touched was on fire.

His better angel sounded warning bells in his head and his conscience won out in the end as he gently pushed her back by her shoulders. "I want this, I want you, but we both know this is a mistake," he soothed her with his tone as his hand brushed hair from her face. "You know that don't you?"

She bit her lip and nodded, "I should go." She moved to flee and he stopped her physically.

"Uh-uh," he was stern. "How you got here without killing someone or being arrested is a miracle, but you're staying put now."

Her brow twisted in question. "How's that gonna work?"

"I'll sleep on the couch," he suggested.

"You think you have to?"

"Yeah," he sighed and ran a hand through his short red hair. "I don't think its safe for me to be in a bedroom with you,"

"We are so screwed up, Crews," she said sadly.

"We were both screwed up before we ever met," he argued, "but together we are like mixing drugs and alcohol." He reminisced about something wistfully that she didn't imagine him ever doing. "That's why I thought Tidwell was good for you, safe, clean, normal."

"Oh, is that what you thought?" She was angry again in an instant. She didn't want him deciding for her. She didn't want anyone choosing her life for her. "Did you ever stop to think that I don't want safe? I don't want normal? I can't do clean and safe? I know what living feels like on the edge, " she taunted, "I like it. It feels good."

"While it lasts," he countered his smile was both coy and melancholy, "but then what?"

"You're such a liar, " she shot at him. "All this crap about "living in the moment." Well here it is – the moment - and where are you?"

He hung his head and shook it. "You're 100% right, Dani. One hundred percent," he looked and locked her in a heated stare, "but what you're asking for is dangerous."

"I'm a big girl, Crews," she threw her best shot at him. "Or maybe all that time in prison made you prefer men," she was mean on purpose. Dani was good at this. Making things just about sex; making things mean and impersonal so she could walk away clean and not regret it. But this they'd both regret and she knew it – deep down she knew this was just another way to push him away, but one that worked.

His eyes flickered and narrowed. She'd struck deep and hit hard. The dangerous animal inside him was coaxed into the light. He reacted strongly, forcing her against the wall.

"You know damned well what I'm capable of," he hissed. "Don't push me," he threatened and her smirk was his undoing. He kissed her brutally. His body pinned hers against the wall as she clawed at him and struggled for control. It seemed like they were fighting; only what they both fought was internal. He pulled away and used his strong lean fingers to force her to look at him.

"Scared yet?" he was cruel and smiling.

"Not even close," she taunted and slapped him.

"Don't do this," he demanded. "Don't…."

She interrupted him, "don't what? Don't be fucked up? Don't not know what to do? I can't help myself. I can't not care?" she shouted.

"That's it," his tone was low and fierce. It brooked no argument. "You are going to bed and we'll finish this when you aren't drunk."

"I'm not that drunk," she taunted licking her bottom lip.

"Yeah, Reese," he said softly, "you are." He ended further discussion by throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up the stairs. He deposited her on the floor beside his vast bed and commanded, "Now stay here. Go to sleep. You come back down those stairs and I'll cuff you to the bed."

"How do you know I wouldn't like it?" she was spiteful and bitter.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart," he was now in full control of himself, "but that's something we'll save for another time."

"In your dreams," she threw a shoe at him. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I'd ever fuck you Crews." She shouted at the slammed door.


	17. Chapter 17

**A Dark Path – Chapter 17**

She remembered getting drunk; that part was fun.

She remembered coming to his house; that part was embarrassing.

She didn't remember taking off her clothes. She didn't remember climbing into his bed.

She hoped that wasn't something she'd live to regret; she hoped he wasn't something she'd regret.

She looked around and his side of the bed was undisturbed. It was his bed, but he wasn't in it. She pulled on a pale blue shirt, also his and crept barefoot through the marble halls. She'd heard the stories and knew a scantily clad woman in bare feet wasn't unusual for Charlie Crews' house.

Ted Early, Charlie's roommate was drinking coffee and reading the paper over a large island in the kitchen. He said nothing, looked a moment too long at her legs and then pointed to a room, which presumably held Crews.

She found him in the living room, draped over a long couch of chestnut leather.

Either the couch was too short or he was too long, but it looked wrong, uncomfortable and painful. He was oddly arranged with an arm slung over the back like he was holding a lover. He wore navy plaid boxers and a heather grey t-shirt. His freckles extended to parts of him she'd never seen before, but she noticed now. He was restless; his body refused to be still. His long bare legs stuck to the leather, which squeaked when he moved, yet despite his position and comfort level, he snored softly. _Had he done this to them or had she?_ She wasn't sure anymore. Regardless of whoever started them down this dark path, she'd led them both somewhere decidedly more tangled last night. She quietly slunk back to his room, took off his clothes and climbed into his shower.

* * *

He'd heard the soft footfalls of her bare feet echo on the empty hallways and kept up the pretense of sleep to give her options. She could simply disappear and he'd never ask her why she came to him in the dark of night with liquor on her breathe. He'd let her have her illusions as she gave him the freedom to keep his. He heard the shower start and the water surge through the pipes in his house, which was as silent as a tomb. At least he wasn't alone. Ted wasn't still chasing a dream in Spain although Rachel was still hidden away from a threat that no longer existed.

She was right - Rachel was – when she told him that he was sending her away so he could be alone.

Except that he wasn't alone – she was here. Dani Reese, his partner and something more – something indescribable, indefinable, an unknown to a man who thought he knew things. Turns out he didn't know squat. She was his and yet she wasn't. They were locked in spiral that promised pain and yet, unable or unwilling to let go. It was totally un-Zen.

The shower stopped and silence returned. He heard the soft snick of the front door and the sound of Ted's Ford Fusion as he left for the class at university he taught at 8AM. Twenty minutes passed, then thirty and forty, just shy of an hour he could no longer stand the not knowing – the silence had become oppressive.

He crept up the stairs in his rumpled clothes. A night on his couch instead of his bed made him feel stiff and uncoordinated. He felt like a stranger in his own home.

She sat still and silent on the edge of his bed wrapped in a fluffy white towel. She was crying, not bawling, but tears streamed down her face and stained her cheeks. Her eyes were closed and her chest heaved. He knelt before her and spoke her name softly, not Dani, but "Reese," like a question.

Her eyes opened and they were a warm brown and concerned. "What's…" he began and she dropped her head. His hands were on her in an instant. One rested lightly on her knee and the other held her chin returning her to his eyes. "Hey," he said in a low, concerned tone, "you're safe. It's alright."

She shook her head and bit her lip. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Why?" he rocked back on his heels.

"You're not my…" she started, then stopped unsure of how badly she'd screwed up.

"Your friend?" he offered. She didn't respond verbally but her eyes told him he missed the mark.

"Or I'm not yours?" he continued more seriously. He was treading dark and dangerous waters.

She couldn't hide the look of surprise in her eyes when he guessed her thought.

"You're wrong," he advised cautiously, "I am."

She cocked her head to the side in silent question.

"Yours," he replied firmly, "for as long as you want me, even if you don't want me."

"I…" she began and then lost her voice in his deep stare. "I don't want to screw this up," she found her voice and her confidence in his supporting look.

"You won't," he stated flatly. "I won't let you fall. I'll be right here."

"Last night…." she began haltingly, "did we?"

He smiled softly and shook his head no.

Her exhaled sigh was heartbreaking. She couldn't remember. In a way that was blessing….and a curse.

"What happened?" she demanded. She knew him too well. "What'd I do? What'd I say?"

"We fought," he didn't pull punches. She'd know if he lied, "you slapped me." Her look was one part skepticism and one part incredulity, "and hit me – more than once," he couldn't resist laying it on thick. He wasn't technically lying, just embellishing for effect. She closed her eyes and seemed to speak silently to herself. Perhaps she was praying he posited.

"You kissed me," she stated out of the blue. It was a statement of fact, without a hint of a question. That he was not expecting.

He rocked back on his heels and stood creating distance. "I don't remember that," he lied with is back turned.

"Liar," she said sullenly.

He wheeled. She could make him angry better than anyone else in the world. It was one of the many ways he knew his feelings for her ran deep and would last a lifetime. She was under his skin and in his head instantly. His lips were tightly drawn and his eyes a dangerous greenish grey.

"What I wanna know is… if you lie to me because of what happening here?" she intimated between them with her finger, "or because of what's on the wall of that closet?"

Charlie was dumbfounded. She wasn't up here mooning over him for the last forty minutes. She was up here in his closet going over his conspiracy wall. He was now uncertain, unstable and unhinged, far more than he was last night.

"Are you here to gather information for your father? Or just to drive me insane?"

'My father is dead. You know that," she shouted. "And I can't drive you insane. You're already there." She gathered her things and made ready to leave.

"Dani, stop," he ordered. It was his tone that stopped her. "I meant what I said," he spoke to her back because she had reached his front door. "If you're here to find me out, then you already have," he promised. "I love you," he admitted defeat, "I don't want to but I do."

"Sure I'm not just another lead you're following?" she asked as she walked out the door.

He started to follow her and then glanced at his watch. They were both due at work in a little under an hour. He heard her car start and peel out as she left. She was still angry, but then Dani Reese was always angry.

He shouted his frustration at the top of his lungs in his normally silent house. She was driving him crazy and yet, he wouldn't have walked away from her for all the money in the Bank of Los Angeles.


	18. Chapter 18

**A Dark Path - Chapter 18**

He entered the office and the object of his desire and vexation was sitting at her desk typing. Her shoulders were tense and her body stiff. There was no sign she was hung over, but then Reese was an experienced drunk. He cautiously pulled out his chair, but she never looked up. He sat down on the edge of his seat and pointedly stared at her, she didn't react – at all.

"Reese," he began and she connected her eyes to his, nothing else on her body moved, just her eyes. Unbridled hate shone there. He swallowed hard. He knew a lot of looks from his partner – disdained, disgust, annoyance, pain, loss, but not this…never this. "Do we need to talk about…" he offered awkwardly.

"No," she said firmly holding his eyes. The heat in them was one he would never forget.

"You don't even know what I'm gonna…" he argued weakly.

"No," she repeated and this time her eyes narrowed. Not wanting to provoke a fight he rolled over and gave her what she wanted – his silence.

Tidwell wandered over to express his condolences forlornly. Dani was far from gracious, brushing aside his concern abruptly and walking into the coffee room.

"She okay?" Tidwell inquired.

Charlie who was staring after her replied without looking, "No, I don't think so."

"You're her partner. Can't you help her?" Tidwell objected.

"No, " Crews said with a hint of sadness and regret in his tone, "I don't think I can."

Tidwell said nothing, but took his cue and walked away.

"I don't think anyone can," Crews commented to himself.

* * *

The next couple days he didn't see much of Reese. There were funeral arrangements to be made and then the fateful day that the rest of the office dressed in their navy blue uniforms and paid tribute to the fallen SWAT Commander. No matter what else he was and how he'd died, LAPD publically celebrated one of their own. Crews, of course, was not to attend. He knew this.

He sat alone in the quiet squad bay going over the evidence in the Martin case. He and Reese both liked the parents for it, but there wasn't any direct evidence they killed the little girl. Autopsy demonstrated a very discreet injury. Suffocation – not strangulation, but softer still kills and it was the cause of death of little Madeline. Something soft and innocent like a pillow was placed over the girl's little pink mouth and nose until she stopped struggling. Suffocation was a woman's crime his instincts told him this. Men were more prone to rage and liked to use their hands to manually choke the life from someone, but women killed more softly, more cautious, more quietly.

This made him think of Reese. She wouldn't suffocate him, she's probably shoot him or beat him to death but then Dani Reese was not most women. What she fought most, what she fought hardest was herself. He knew that his lack of patience was what was driving them both insane. He needed to leave her alone - let her come to him. Then he shook himself out of this own mind and focused on the case.

He looked at the parent's photos and neither looked capable of killing a child, but Charlie Crews knew "looks" is not always "is." The best witnesses were the other children, but the parents wouldn't give the detectives access without them being present and neither child would say a word against their parents with them sitting in the same room. He had to find a way to talk to them without their parents being there.

He decided to visit their school and try to catch them at recess. He was in luck as Chauncey was on the soccer field. Crews was something of an athlete so he waited until the ball came his way and then worked back into the group of young boys. He was faster and his longer legs made him far better than even the best of the boys. He was instantly popular and showing off his badge and gun only seemed to cement the deal. He was "cool" one boy pronounced. The whistle blew and the boys headed for the locker room when he called out to Chauncey. It took less ten minutes and a hard stare for the boy to give it up.

Madeline was a stubborn, willful child who misbehaved often and flouted authority. Their mother did not know how to deal with her, particularly after her first two kids were so compliant. She lost her temper with Madeline and the boy believed what had started as a contest of wills ended with his little sister dead, but he was at school and didn't see anything directly. It was a clue that led nowhere – but that Crews knew that you couldn't be nowhere.

* * *

When he returned to the office, Reese was at her desk. This perplexed him. He knew there was to be a wake at the Reese home. _She wasn't attending it?_

"Aren't you supposed to be…" he offered.

"What?" she challenged.

"Somewhere," he finished his question.

"I am somewhere," she replied coolly.

"Your father…" he offered as a hint.

"Is dead," she countered. "I got a killer to catch," she grabbed her jacket and the case file.

"We've got a killer to catch," he corrected deliberately blocking her path with his body. "Reese," he drew her name out until she looked up at him, "WE have a killer to catch."

"So get your coat," she said angrily. "Because YOU," she pointedly argued, "are holding US up."

* * *

In the elevator he briefed her on his morning's activities or rather he tried to before she became angry and began shouting at him. "You did what?"

"I'm trying to tell you," he tersely batted back. He was stiff and awkward and she was downright hostile.

"That's just fuckin' great, Crews," she derided. "You interview a kid without a custodial parent," she breathed out hot air. "Jesus Christ…"

"Let's be honest," he was snide in his return comment. "That's far from the worst thing I've done."

She stared at him. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Is it working?" he parried.

She snapped her mouth shut because it had fallen open in shock. Everyone else was treating her with kid gloves. They were being so nice it disgusted her. But not everyone knew the Jack Reese that Charlie Crews did. Her partner knew the world was probably better off with one less dirty cop and mean spirited parent. He didn't cut her any slack and certainly didn't dance around her on eggshells. She'd told him she was ready to go back to work and he accepted that – accepted her – part of her knew he always had and he always would.

They sat in silence for several moments before he just couldn't help himself and he began speaking again. This time however it wasn't about the case. "I didn't kill him," he confessed bluntly, "and I don't know who did." He quieted for a moment when he drew her dark eyes, "but I'll help you find out - if you want to know."

It was a peace offering and a confession. It was an olive branch.

"I don't know if I want to know," she sighed looking skyward. "Once you know something you know – you can't unknow it."

"Now you sound like me," he smiled softly and she knew she did.

"Yeah, that's how I know I'm losing it," she laughed but the sentiment didn't reach her eyes, "you're starting to make sense to me."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, a lot of the stuff I thought I knew," he offered, "turns out I was wrong."

That made her grimace. "Was my father a bad man Crews?"

"Was he bad to you?" He answered her question with one of his own.

She nodded and bit her lip, looking away.

"Then I would say yes," he told her firmly. He reached for and held onto her hand; even though he knew she didn't want a show of support, a gesture of kindness and a connection with him, he held fast to her. He tethered her in the now and his eyes held hers in a gentle gaze that was more a caress than a look. "No one gets to hurt you, Reese."

She accepted his comment, his gesture and his kindness answering back with a small, but true smile and a squeeze of his hand. "So…" she redirected them to the case, "how do we get this woman?"

"I got an idea," he offered.

Reese did a double take and rolled her eyes when he winked at her.


	19. Chapter 19

**A Dark Path – Chapter 19**

His idea wasn't as crazy as the last one. Luck and a couple more days of solid police work led to an interview in which the differences in the parent's stories led to their collective undoing. As the mother cracked under the pressure and the guilt, they made the arrest.

Ultimately, both parents were led away in cuffs, her for second-degree murder, him for wrongful disposition of a body and accessory after he fact; Abigail and Chauncey cried bitterly as they were dragged off by child services. They'd solved the case, broken a family, orphaned kids into foster care – Madeline was still dead. No one won; everyone lost.

"Why does this feel all wrong? How can this be right?" Dani wondered aloud and turned on her heel and stalked off silently.

Charlie didn't answer because some questions there are simply no answers for.

* * *

It was about all Dani could take and when he looked around she had vanished – no good byes, no checking out, no note, no call. He looked up and she was gone. He waited for hours and she never came back. She didn't answer her cell. Finally out of options Charlie inquired with Tidwell. The gloating smile from his Captain didn't help things.

"Just check on her will ya?" he asked tersely.

"Sure thing, Crews," Tidwell smiled slyly. "Tidwell's still got a shot…" he mumbled to himself and grabbed his coat and keys.

* * *

Tidwell called three times, maybe more, but there was no answer. He decided to just drop by, but when she didn't answer the door he used his old key to let himself in. He knew they were no longer a "thing," but he also knew her well enough to sense when she wasn't doing well and today was one of those dark days. Her father's funeral was hard on her and she and Crews were just not clicking on all cylinders. He had a feeling she might be in trouble and he'd been around the block long enough to trust his gut.

She was sitting with her back to the door wearing headphones, which was why she didn't hear him knocking. There was a vodka bottle on her kitchen table with about three inches of liquid remaining and a forgotten juice glass on the floor under the table. He figured she'd been drinking…he figured wrong.

While he was thinking about how to let her know he was there without scaring her, she figured him out - feeling someone behind her she turned. An arched brow questioned his use of the old key, which he wordlessly laid on the table by the bottle as he passed it.

She removed her headphones and stared at him.

"Uh…you been drinking?" he questioned.

"No," she answered coolly, "not today."

"But you have been drinking?" he confirmed.

"All my life," she defied his attempts to get a straight answer out of her.

"You okay?" he tried another tack.

"Some days, yes; some days, no," she replied sounding more like Crews than she wanted to. Then it occurred to her why he was here. "He send you?" There was no need to qualify who the "he" she referenced was – they both knew.

He nodded. That was new. Crews wasn't a coward, he was giving her space, time, options. He was giving her something else most people didn't – respect. "Tell him I'm fine."

"Dani…" Tidwell began, but she cut him off.

"Kevin, I really am. I'm fine." She could tell he didn't buy it and after all their time together she owed him more. "I've had a rough month, my dad, this case and…other stuff," she referenced obliquely her ongoing issues with Crews. "I struggle, but I'm getting there – and I'm doing it without help – yours or his."

"He says that's why you left," Tidwell toed the carpet with his shoe. "Cause you could manage on your own. Cause you don't need me or him."

"He's right," she revealed.

"That's sad, Dani," he commented shyly looking up from under the unruly lock of hair that fell across his forehead, "for you to be alone."

"No," she scoffed, "it's healthy. For once in my life I'm not using sex to forget about my troubles."

"Is that what we were?" he asked a hard question.

"No," she crossed and took his hands in hers. "No, we were good."

"But…" he pursued.

"But not right," she confessed and kissed him on the cheek. "Go home, Kevin."

He walked toward the door and asked looking back, "what do you want me to tell him?"

"That I don't need you carrying messages for me," she advised. "I'll call him."

On the way out, he paused and looked at the old cassette player, a Walkman from the 1980's, "that's vintage."

She smiled, "yeah, kinda."

"Old mix tape?" he questioned.

"Yep," she lied. She couldn't tell him, she didn't want to that it was a Zen tape Crews played in the car all the time. Somehow the clipped voice on tape wasn't as threatening as her almost always right Zen partner. Still the things he said made sense to her now - now more than ever. She didn't want's Crews help but she needed it and him more than she wanted to accept. Reality was staring her in the face. She put the headphones back on, pressed play and listened to the metallic hiss of the tape rolling through the Walkman as the voice spoke the words - but in her mind they were coming from Charlie's lips.

* * *

She sat staring at the phone, wondering exactly what she'd say when she finally pushed the speed dial that would magically connect them, when there was a knock a her door. "I said I was fine…" she answered smiling expecting Kevin Tidwell when what she got was a pale shadow with copper colored hair.

"So he said," Crews replied and his smile was slow and sly. "I had to see for myself."

She didn't invite him in and he didn't offer to leave. They stood there in awkward silence until he jammed his hands down in the pockets of his jeans to keep from fidgeting.

"You shouldn't be here," she warned.

"I have to be somewhere," he teased.

"Charlie," her voice held warning but her face a smile.

"Let me kiss you," he asked boldly. "Just once, then I'll go."

"We both know you won't," she foretold their combined lack of will power when it came to what they both wanted. He seemed embarrassed so she clarified, "I wouldn't let you."

The tightness across his features eased and he nodded. "Yeah, okay," softly adding, "You're right" as he turned to leave. "It's just…" he wavered unsteady and unsure for the first time in a long time, "someday, somewhere you're gonna let me kiss you again right?"

"Awfully sure of that aren't you?" she teased. He knew she wanted him. He knew he wanted her. They were locked in a battle that would last them a lifetime, but one neither would give up on.

"I'll just keep hoping," he twirled his car keys around the long middle finger of his right hand where he'd held them to keep from jingling them nervously. He winked at her and smiled. His walk back to the car had bounce in his step and purpose in his movements.

She shut the door and leaned against it. She exhaled a sigh and wrapped her arms around herself. Twin temptations had knocked at her door tonight. Comfort in the arms of a known and release in the grasp of an unknown. She'd beat them both back. The forgotten juice glass was retrieved from the floor and the contents of the bottle poured down the drain. Today she was not giving in to temptation.


	20. Chapter 20

**A Dark Path – Chapter 20**

That weekend passed uneventfully. She saw her mother several times; she did not see Crews. Helping clean out her father's study and box up his clothes gave Dani closure – an ugly chapter of her life was over. She no longer had to worry about disappointing a man she could never please. She wondered about Crews and his interest in her father. She knew now that he'd lied when he told her that Jack was not involved in sending him to prison, but the question was why. She suspected it was to protect her, which both touched and irritated her. She couldn't decide how she felt about what he'd done, but had long since given in to how she felt about him. The idea that he – they would be together inevitable. He'd just had to out last her and in truth it was a battle she didn't mind losing. Still she resisted the impulse to reach out to him to prove to herself that she could.

* * *

Saturday, Ted grilled steaks, droning on about Olivia and Spain while Charlie half listened and nursed a longneck his mind on a certain dark haired woman he knew. If Ted noticed or minded Charlie's distraction, he never let on. On Sunday, Rachel called and in her own stilted emotionless way asked if he was okay. He said he was, but Rachel knew him better than most people.

"If it's that girl….you should just tell her," Rachel counseled. He didn't ask what girl or try to play it off – there was only one and he and Rachel had long since given up any pretense of lying to each other. He sighed in response, unwilling or unable to talk about his struggle. She rang off awkwardly and he later called back to apologize.

"Just tell her Uncle Charlie," Rachel urged.

"I have," he confessed.

"Oh," was her shocked response. After a moment, Rachel found her voice again and filled in the empty air between them. "Keep telling her," Rachel suggested, "sometimes you can't see the truth that's right in front of you." He agreed, but that didn't change the fact that Dani Reese was somewhere far from him - in body and mind those long 48 hrs.

Those two events neatly divided the weekend into two separate days with unending nights for Charlie. He slept little and wondered a lot – about her, about himself, about what really mattered in life and who.

Later that night, he sat alone in his closet staring at what consumed him - until she did - and found it no longer held the same magnetism. He tried not to think about calling her and failed, but he resisted the impulse even though he fingered the digits to her phone number often enough they stayed warm from his touch. He tried to see the way ahead but it was dark and unknown to him.

* * *

Monday, they were back at work. Neither was doing much talking; both were content to think about where they were headed next. Crews' face still bore her handprint from their last heated exchange. Time had only caused it to be more visible against his fair skin. It was hard to miss.

"What'd you do Crews…start dating a dominatrix?" Tidwell joked darkly.

Both Dani and Charlie shot him dirty looks. Tidwell froze, thought, opened his mouth to speak, but Dani held up a finger and he pivoted and disappeared.

"You've got him trained well," Charlie remarked cynically.

"Hmmph," was her noncommittal reply.

"Sure you don't want to go get him back from the pound?"

"God," she hissed back across the desk at him, "you are just determined to piss me off today aren't you?" She couldn't decide if she was mad at him today or not. He was being sullen and moody and she knew she was the reason for his mood.

"Sorry," he said glumly and returned to the mundane task of putting staples into his stapler, one she never actually saw him use on any paperwork. She imagined he'd done silly things with it like stapling his tie to his desk, but then Crews usually treated his clothes better than that.

"I'm a bad dog, the kind no one adopts," he mumbled, but it was intended for her ears. "From the pound," he clarified, "the kind that gets destroyed because no one can manage to control them." Now he was talking to her and looking straight at her.

"I think you need you to think about work, Crews," she implored.

"Maybe I'll get a dog," he switched tracks and jumped off on a tangent.

"Maybe I'll get a killer," she teased.

"As a dog? Or you mean…" he gestured to the pile of paperwork on an unsolved cold case that covered both their desks. Her messiness had spilled over to his side and he didn't seem to mind.

"Both," she met him boldly holding his eyes. "This case and as a pet," she taunted.

"Wild animals can't be kept as pets," he continued to play with fire.

"But dogs who've been made to be mean can be controlled," she correct her word choice when he grimaced, "gentled." That word choice made him smile. "Even if they are never the same again, they can learn to be kinder and even play nice with others," she continued the conversation in a way that could be construed as actually talking about a dog to anyone who overheard them. Her voice was not low and dangerous; it was normal conversation – except that it wasn't.

"But you can never turn your back on them," he egged her on, "never trust them."

"With my instincts, some times they are all I trust," she said presciently. Mad dog killer or Zen partner - she meant him and they both knew it. Just as quickly, she shut him down grabbing her coat. "Come' on. Let's go. I need coffee."

Two could play at this game. He could be as cool and aloof as a cat. He leaned back in his chair pointedly put his feet up on his desk and pronounced, "pass."

She stared hard at him. It was no longer a glare. She simply couldn't summon those anymore when it came to him. "Crews," she coyly suggested. His legs came off the desk and she smiled and patted her leg, "come."

His eyes narrowed at her joke. _Was she taunting him?_ She could be that mean. But his curiosity made him follow anyway. "I'm not a dog," he said sullenly once they were safely alone on the elevator.

"No," she smiled, "you're not."

He smiled reflexively in return and paled when her look turned predatory.

"If you were," she turned and closed on him, "you'd be bad dog," pinning him to the wall with a look, "and I'd be holding your leash."

He gulped nervously and straightened his tie. He focused his gaze at a point over her head intent on trying to maintain that cool aloofness that was so much an act. Her hand rode up his shirt under his tie.

"I want you to kiss me," she demanded.

"You what?" he tried to sound shocked instead of excited. "Here?" he couldn't help it that his second question came out a full octave lower. She did things to him.

"Here," she confirmed as she tugged on his tie.

The "why" he meant to ask died on his lips. Hers were soft and full and lush. She nibbled on his lower lip and he just couldn't help himself.

Calm, cool, aloof – all went right out the window. What replaced them was the sizzling blue of electricity, humming and igniting the air around them. When they broke she was in his arms, arms he couldn't remember wrapping around her, arms that warmed her and held her fast. Safe and yet somehow dangerous; snug, yet not binding, arms that held her gently and that felt right – it didn't hurt that he was a superb kisser either. He eased his grip; she straightened and stepped away.

The bell dinged their arrival and he asked what he wanted to before, "why here?"

"There is no place you need to be but here. There is nothing you need to do, but this," she replied softly, just for his ears with her back to him, but he could feel the emotion in her voice when she said it. Something was changing in her; they could both feel it happening even though there was no visible sign.

The doors opened and she stepped into the bright sunlight. It was so bright he lost her for a moment, but blinked and stepped into the unknown regardless. He'd follow her anywhere – to the gates of hell and beyond.

At the car, she stopped and connected with him. Even though the sunglasses she wore he could feel her eyes on him.

"Charlie," she whispered. "You're not invisible. I see you." Then just as suddenly she disconnected and climbed into the car.

He took a moment to appreciate what she'd said and what she'd done. He had no idea what they meant, except that her words, thoughts and actions were real, personal and heartfelt. Wherever they were going next was uncharted territory, but they'd go there together.

THE END


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